Stumbling Home
by mooyoo
Summary: A notsogreat day of school for Michael.


**Title:** Stumbling Home  
**Fandom:** Prison Break  
**Characters:** Michael, Lincoln  
**Prompt:** 007: Days  
**Word Count:** 1,266  
**Rating:** G  
**Summary:** A not-so-great day of school for Michael.

**Disclaimer:** Paul Scheuring and a whole lot of other people who aren't me own _Prison Break_.

**AN:** This tiny, random idea was spawned from this line in callmetofu's story Overwhelmed: _He's never missed out on a day of school before, not when he could still stand (not even when his mother was dying and his heart was broken)._

Michael sat next to Lincoln as this woman, this _foster-mother_ – he hiccupped as his mind stumbled over the term – paced in front of them, droning on about how sorry she was about their mother and the rules of the house and what would happen to them over the next few days and how everything would be okay, they'd see. Michael leaned his head on Lincoln's shoulder and didn't pay much attention to her, grateful that Lincoln, for once, didn't shove him away and say that he was too old to be so touchy-feely.

"And I'm not working right now, so I can stay home with you this week…" she was saying and Michael looked up at that.

"What about school?" he asked nervously.

"Oh you can take a few days off, sweetie," she replied in a voice that was far too pleasant.

"I want to go to school," Michael replied, looking down at his hands lying uselessly in his lap.

"Michael, your mother just died," Lincoln stated quietly, as if Michael wasn't already aware of the fact. "You're allowed to stay home."

"I want to go to school," Michael softly repeated and no one argued with him again about it.

"Okay, well, I can drive you and pick you up in the aftern–"

"I'll take him," Lincoln interrupted. The woman stared blankly at him for a moment.

"Well – we're a little farther from Michael's school than your apartment was. It'd probably be better if I drove – "

"It's okay," Lincoln said firmly, and Michael felt his brother's shoulder tense up underneath his cheek. "I'll do it."

"Okay," she said, sounding almost shaky. Michael wondered how many other kids she and her husband had housed before them. He hadn't seen any around when they'd arrived – but it was pretty late at night, he reasoned, so maybe there were others. That thought made him nervous. He wanted to go home so badly that his stomach burned, but there was no home anymore to go to.

The next day he and Lincoln woke up early and stared silently at the breakfast presented before each of them. Michael sat stiffly in his chair like an uncomfortable houseguest and munched on his toast out of politeness more than hunger. The pair of them walked to Michael's school silently and then Lincoln left him at the front entrance with a promise to return at the stroke of three. Michael noticed Lincoln's shoulders slump in a way he'd never seen before as the older boy turned to leave.

Michael walked into his school and almost cried at the familiar surroundings. It felt like it'd been years since he'd been here last, though he hadn't even missed a day, and finally after hours of being scared and confused and muddled with grief, here he felt safe and calm. Things were normal here; the empty hallways looked just like they did yesterday when his mother was still alive, his homeroom smelled vaguely like Elmer's Glue as usual, and he could hear bits of traffic zooming by outside the window behind his desk just like he always could.

Michael pulled out his notebook and waited for the rest of the kids to show up and mostly ignore him like normal, and didn't even notice how hard he was tapping the end of his pencil against the desk.

Kids filled up the classroom eventually and Michael was satisfied to get lost in the random anonymous chatter surrounding him that had nothing to do with death or security or his mother.

As the rest of the day wore on, however, things changed and Michael realized that even school, the place he'd expected to be his sanctuary from sadness and fear was disrupted. Somehow everyone seemed to have found out and each teacher made him stay after class so that they could offer condolences and sympathies and a shoulder to cry on and other things that Michael didn't really want to hear, nice as the sentiments were. By lunch it seemed that all of the other kids in school knew about _it_, about what had happened, that Michael was an orphan now, and he could feel everyone's gazes for the rest of the day.

Michael had never in his life been the center of attention and now that he was the focus of whispers in the halls and looks of pity, he was desperate to return to being the anonymous wallflower he was the day before. Kids he'd never even met before suddenly appeared around him at random intervals throughout the day to tell him how sorry they were, and even the blond girl two years older than him who he'd had a crush on for months stopped him by his locker to give him a hug.

A day ago he would have been soaring as he pressed a hand awkwardly against her back and finally found out what her hair actually smelled like. But as she pulled away he had trouble remembering that fluttery feeling he normally had when he saw her and couldn't help thinking about how much he wanted to go home while she told him that her grandfather had just died so she knew exactly how he felt. He watched her walk down the hall and thought that she didn't really look that pretty anymore.

Michael's last class of the day was gym, and after shuffling embarrassedly with his clothing while other kids pretended not to talk about him and pretended not to stare, he hung back from the class and watched as they filed into the gym. He spent a few minutes hiding out in the locker room before deciding to just leave.

It was only 2:30 when Michael left school, the first time he'd ever skipped a class in his life, but everything was different now, even school was unfamiliar, and there was nothing comforting left for him there on this day. He was surprised when he emerged to find Lincoln standing outside, leaning heavily against the side of a telephone booth with a cigarette dangling loosely from his fingertips.

"Hey," Michael called to his brother softly and Lincoln looked up. "You're early."

"So're you," Lincoln replied, looking Michael up and down as if inspecting him for the reason he was out of school early.

Michael shrugged, unsure how to answer or whether his brother would reprimand him for cutting class.

"Don't worry about it," Lincoln said, seeming to read Michael's mind. He flicked the cigarette away and threw an arm tightly around Michael's neck to bring the younger boy in close.

"What're you doing here so early?" Michael asked as they started walking. He tried to push away the impulse to walk the opposite direction, towards their home. Their _old_ home, he corrected himself. "You said you'd be here at three."

Lincoln shrugged and his shoulder knocked against the side of Michael's head, but they stayed stuck together with Lincoln's arm slung around Michael's neck and Michael pressed close to his brother's side. Michael took hurried, stumbling steps to keep in time with Lincoln's longer strides and was happy to leave school behind, even if they were headed towards someplace even more scary and unknown. At least Lincoln would be there with him.

"Had nothing much better to do today," Lincoln said, and Michael briefly wondered how long his brother had been waiting for him.

Michael choked back the tears that hit him randomly with a sudden fierce longing for his mother, and he pressed his face harder against Lincoln's shoulder, reveling in the familiar feeling of strength he found there.

**-end-**


End file.
